


The Far Side and the Deep End

by MageofHeart



Category: Homestuck
Genre: Child Abuse, Drug Use, Humanstuck, M/M, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Platonic Relationships, Romance, Running Away, Threesomes, Twin Striders
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-01-25
Updated: 2015-04-27
Packaged: 2018-01-09 23:23:55
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 10,243
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1152050
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MageofHeart/pseuds/MageofHeart
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"Do you ever think about leaving?" Dirk's almost whispering, making sure to keep his voice down.<br/>"All the time." It's true. Dave always wants to leave. He day dreams about it sometimes, when he's staring out the window on the bus. Imagining a alternate universe where everything was the same except his mother never got remarried.<br/>"Me, too," Dirk sighs. "Me, too."</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I should make this know right away- this fic with be very different than Red Converse. If you read the tags and the summary, you surely can already see that. Nonetheless, I will try to make it just as great.
> 
> The Far Side and the Deep End was inspired by three difference books: Eleanor & Park by Rainbow Rowell, Smack by Melvin Burgess, and The Lover's Dictionary by David Levithan.
> 
> My tumblr is lyths.tumblr.com if anyone has any questions, concerns, comments, criticism.
> 
> Right. So let's do this, yeah?

_Atrocious (adjective): shockingly bad or tasteless; dreadful; abominable.  
Example: The new kid, who had just gotten on the bus, was sporting the most atrocious sweater Dave Strider has ever seen._

Seriously, what was this kid thinking? It's like he was begging for all the eyes to be on him, begging for the snickers and harsh comments and the collective, "Oh, my God." Plus, his hair was a mess. A tangled, ratty mess of dark hair. How can someone care so little about their appearance? It was beyond Dave, that was for sure. He always put so much care into his own hair, into picking out the perfect outfit the night before school. 

The new kid was taking in his surroundings, taking in the lack of empty seats and how every seat with just one individual in it had set their bag next to them as a placeholder. Those kids would stare Newbie down until he passed them up. Dave could see Newbie growing anxiously, gnawing away at his lip as if it wasn't attached and couldn't cause him pain. Like, ouch, just watching Newbie crew away his own flesh made Dave cringe.

Closer and closer to the back of the bus Newbie came, and, as a result, Vriska Serket's obvious snickers grew in volume. The newbie had to have known they were because of him, because he glances at her and scowls. And then his eyes flick to Dave, sat in the seat directly across from Vriska. Surely, he is noticing that Dave is sitting alone. 

"Sit down," the bus driver calls back, voice exasperated. Dave wonders how anyone end up with a job like a bus driver. Who would want to tote around a shit ton of snot nosed, disrespectful kids to school and back? Newbie's eyes are still on him, and his lip is out from between his teeth now, opening his mouth as if he has something to say. But Vriska, being the bitch she always is, leans forward and opens her fat mouth before Newbie can even get a word out. 

"Hey, loser," she says, as if loser is the harshest insult there is. "He doesn't want you to sit by him. You might get your..." Her eyes go from his head, to his feet, back to his head. "...ugly virus all over him. Right, Dave?" 

Dave doesn't really know what to say. Sure, he doesn't want this kid to sit by him. He doesn't want anyone to sit by him, preferring to have the small bus seat all to himself. But where else could this kid possibly sit? To be honest, Dave almost felt bad for him. It had to be hard, showing up on a new bus with a bunch of new kids, wearing the ugliest sweater thing money could buy. Almost. And almost was enough for Dave to roll his eyes behind his shades and say, "Just sit the fuck down." It is unnecessary to add the next part, but he does, anyway. "Jesus Christ." 

Newbie sits down as soon as the last syllable is uttered. He sits lightly, doesn't plop down like Dave does. Dave gets a good up close look at the mess (there was no other way to describe him). In addition to the untamed hair and horrendus fashion choice, Newbie had dark bags under his eyes and nails bitten down to his finger tips. Oh boy. 

For the rest of the bus ride, Dave says nothing to his new seat partner. And neither does he. They ride in silence, listening to Vriska Serket and Kanaya Maryam's conversation next to them. 

\---

In Dave's third period class (Algebra, his best subject by far. Math just came easy to him, no biggie), the newbie sat three rows away. He sat with Algebra book propped up, distaste written on all of his features. Dave also got to learn his name. Karkat Vantas.

Wasn't vantas a drug for prostate cancer? That was Dave's immediate thought, and he had to stifle a laugh with his hand when the teacher said the newbie's name. Still, Karkat's narrowed brown eyes locked on him, his eyebrows narrowing to show Dave that yes, he knew exactly what he was thinking. Which just made Dave want to laugh more, really.

"Aw, man," said best friend John Egbert from behind him. "I just don't get this chapter." Dave rolled his eyes, turned slightly in his seat so that he could rest his elbow on John's desk.

He arched a golden brow. "Dude, you say that every chapter." He wasn't eve exaggerating-- John was a major complainer when it came to math of any sort. Last year, they'd had geometry together, and John would start whining the moment the teacher decided to start the class. 

"I just don't get why we have to learn all this useless junk about shapes!" he'd said. Truth be told, Dave didn't either, but it was still annoying that John would say the same thing, every day, without fail. He'd even tell him, dude, you're so damn repetitive, I don't remember pressing the replay button. It was hopeless. Same complaining. Same words. Algebra this year had thus far been the exact same.

Dave bet his left pinky that he'd enjoy John presence in class a lot more if maybe he could revert back into the John he was outside of school. A John who still complained, sure, but at least it was something different, or something Dave could join him in.

"I _know_ ," says John now. "I never get it no matter what chapter it is! Math is impossible." Dave just shrugs at this statement, not bothering to mention that he has no problem with it. John surely wouldn't appreciate that. 

In from his right comes Terezi's voice, a too-loud whisper. "Please tell me my glasses are dirty," she pleads, jerking her thumb at Prostate Cancer himself. "Please tell me that kid's hair is just styled to be like that." She takes off her glasses and cleans them on her shirt. When they are back on her small nose, she looks at Karkat Vantas again. "Oh, God. Why would his mom let him leave with his hair like that? Does he own a brush?" 

"He looks like he'd be friends with Aradia Megido, yeah?" John whispers back. Terezi cackles, says she's going to introduce them.

"I don't think you're one to talk, John," Dave says. He's not whispering like his companions, but his voice is lower than it would be if he was speaking in his usual tone. "Judging others' by their looks is a tad hypocritical, considering your teeth." Terezi cackles again, John whisper shouts something about how he's supposed to be getting braces, so shut up, Dave.

Their teacher stops mid-sentence, turns from the whiteboard to the class. "Mr. Egbert, if I am correct, your grade in here isn't good enough for you to be yapping away with your mates. Please refrain from talking." A small laugh rises up from the other student, all turned to have a look at John, who's face had heated up.

Sinking down in his seat, John mumbles a "Yes, sir" before whispering to the back of Dave's head, "Why don't you two ever get in trouble?" 

\---

The last bell of the day finally sounds at 3:05, everyone in the room jumping out of their seats and swinging their bags onto their shoulders. Dave is first out the door, pushing his way through the sea of bodies in the hallway so he can hurry and get to the bus before that Karkat kid took his window seat. 

At least, that was his intention, before he spotted Dirk. 

"Bro," he calls, raising his hand to grab his brother's attention. "Hey, bro! Dirk!" 

Dirk glances in his direction, half waves, and Dave sprints over to him. "Man," Dave says, "you ridin' the bus home?" Dave already knows the answer, but he figures he should ask anyway. 

"No." Dirk's voice is different from his brother's, softer, gentle. As previously stated, Dave knew Dirk would say that. He never rode the bus, preferring to leave as early as possible and get home late. Dave couldn't really blame him, not really. "I'm going to walk," Dirk continues. "It's a nice day" 

"Whatever, man. Have fun walking two miles." Dave claps him on the shoulder. "See you at home, yeah?" Dirk nods, mutters a goodbye, and Dave leaves him standing there, but not before glancing back. 

\---

Karkat Vantas beat him to his seat. There he sat, by the window, already staring out it like Dave had planned on doing. His elbow was rested on the sill. As if he owned it. The nerve.

"Dude."

The seat thief doesn't look up at him. 

_"Dude."_ Finally, a response. A jerk of the head, and Karkat's looking at him. "That's my seat. I get window." As he says this, Dave stands up a bit straighter, pushes out his chest just slightly. A dominance thing, letting Karkat know who is in charge, letting him know whose seat this really is. 

A brief silence follows this as Karkat looks at the window, examining it closely, then looking at the part of the seat that his back had been resting on. He focuses on Dave once more. "I don't see you name on it." 

What is this, grade school? What, was Vantas a nine year old trapped in a high schooler's body? How immature can you get. 

Dave is about to tell him that he was the one nice enough to let him sit there this morning, anyway, so he could move his ass or find someone else to bum a bus seat off of, but he holds his tongue. And damn is it hard for him to hold it. He figures,hey, this kid must have had a shitty day. He's new, after all. Dave can't imagine what kind of inner trauma new kids must go through. So whatever. He lets the issue go, throws himself down next to Karkat. Just this one time, he'll let Karkat sit in his designated spot. Just once. 

With that barely notable exchange, the two are back to not talking. Dave pulls out his phone and opens an app with a heavy sigh. It's just not as comfortable in the aisle seat...

\--- 

As expected, when he walks through his front door, his mom is passed out on the couch, a bottle turned on its side on the floor next to her. Also as expected, the house is a complete disaster. He glances at the clock on the wall. Three thirty.

Kneeling down by his mother (and being careful not to step in the spilled alcohol), he gently shakes her shoulder in attempt to rouse her. "Ma." She grunts. "Mom, hey..." 

His mom opens her bleary eyes, and a smile fills her face. "Welcome home, David." Her words are slurred. "Where's your brother...?"

"On his way, Ma. He'll be here soon." Dave cuts right to the chase. "Mom, Dad gets off work in one hour, and the house is a mess. Come on." He stands, holds out a hand to her. "I'll help you clean, okay?"

"Oh, David," she croons. She manages to push herself up into a sitting position, but makes no move to grab Dave's hand. "I'm just so sleepy." To emphasize, she yawns. "I don't know if I can get up..."

"Mom," he's almost pleading now. "I can't do this all by myself." He also can't say no to his mom, no matter how hard he tries. She has him wrapped around her finger, has him clean up her mess without fail every time. 

Dave doesn't blame Dirk for wanting to come home later.

"I tried, David, I tried to clean, I really did." It's a lie. She knows it, Dave knows it, but that doesn't stop her from starting to cry. She's blubbering like a baby in three seconds, flat.

Just like that, she's got Dave trapped again, and he gets to cleaning. He has a little over an hour...

Dirk gets home just before their dad does. He slides in while Dave is finishing cleaning and their mom is starting to actually move. "Diiiiirk," their mother sing-songs. "How's my baby boy?" Dirk doesn't even answer, which he knows upsets their mom. Dave gets mad at him when he doesn't answer her, but again, he doesn't blame him. How can he? 

"Do you need help?" he asks Dave. The house looks a lot better than it did when Dave first arrived home, but it still isn't clean to standards. 

"Nah," Dave answers. He glances at the clock again. "I've got it. Just go in the room, okay?" Dave wants to protect his brother, wants his brother out of the line of sight when their dad gets home. The problem is, Dirk wants to protect him, too, and doesn't listen to him, choosing to grab the broom and sweep up some of the dirt in the hallway instead.

A car door slams.

"Dirk." 

Cognac colored eyes settle on him. 

" _Go_." Dave can see uneasiness in those eyes, fidgety-ness as their dad gets closer to the door. They stare each other down, but Dirk relents, hands over the broom, and hurriedly walks into their bedroom. Thank God. 

The door slams open, and that's how Dave knows that he's already opened the liquor, too. They were quite a pair, his parents. Both always so drunk that he wondered how his dad even managed to keep a job. Really, their dad got off of work ten minutes before school let out, but he always made a trip to the bar afterwards for a few drinks. To celebrate making money, or something like that.

Dave's shoulders are tense as his dad walks behind him and to the refrigerator for a welcome home celebratory drink. Dave knows what he'll find-- nothing. Not one bottle of beer left. He squeezes his eyes shut. And the yelling begins.

"You think you can just sit at home all day, drink my beer, and have your kid clean the damn house?" Dave doesn't stop cleaning, acts like nothing's going on. He knows their routine. "It doesn't fucking work like that!" He continues to scream at their mother, accusing her of using her children for their able bodies and for using him for his money. It's probably all true, but it pisses Dave off that he's talking to his mother like that. His mom, thought, never fights back, never even says anything to him. Dave thinks it's because she knows that he'd never do anything to her, so she only half listens, anyway, and doesn't try to make up excuses. 

"Where the fuck is Dirk?" his father says now. "Why isn't he at least helping clean this shit up? What, does he think he's too good to clean? This ain't no damn palace, and he ain't no damn prince!" 

God, no. Dave has to say something, now, before anything gets too bad. "He offered to help." The words leave him in a rush. "He offered to help, but I told him I could handle it."

His dad doesn't listen. He's already stomping his way to their bedroom. Dave wants to go after him, wants to pull him back and stop him, but he learned a long time ago that it just makes everything so much worse. It is so hard to focus on the task at hand when his hands are shaking so badly, out of fear and anger. 

It is so hard to focus when he can hear the bed move as their dad yanks Dirk off of it. 

It is so hard to focus when he can hear the skin on skin contact as their dad lands blow after blow on his brother and screams questions at him. Why does Dirk think he's so special? Why does he act like he's above the rest of them when he is actually the lowest? Dave hears the word faggot thrown around, accompanied by negative adjectives to describe how their dad sees Dirk. 

It seems like it goes on forever, but in reality it doesn't last that long until their dad is done and out the front door again, no doubt going elsewhere to get his disgusting alcohol. 

As soon as he hears the car screech out of the driveway, Dave if by his brother's side, pulling him into his lap the best he can. 

"Can I help next time?" Dirk asks. He sounds broken, as if he's completely given up. 

"Yeah..." It would be useless to apologize. Dirk never lets him, says it's not Dave fault. Yet somehow Dave always thinks it is. 

Dirk lifts his hand and gives Dave a thumbs up, and Dave immediately looks at the small, dark freckle on the side of his thumb. Dave had one exactly like it, in the exact same spot. 

They always thought it was weird, how even though they shared the same womb, they didn't have the same colored eyes, or anything else identical, for that matter, but they had that one freckle. Over the years, the stupid freckle became their symbol, their proof that they were connected in _some_ way. It was a comfort. 

Dirk shifts, sits up. He has a busted lip, and Dave's sure there's some forming bruises under his shirt. "Why do we even call him dad?" he asks. "He's not our dad. He's some idiot Mom married because she couldn't stand to be alone." 

"Because he's all we've ever known, I guess." 

Silence fills the air around them, both of them lost in thoughts. 

"Do you ever think about leaving?" Dirk's almost whispering, making sure to keep his voice down. 

"All the time." It's true. Dave always wants to leave. He day dreams about it sometimes, when he's staring out the window on the bus. Imagining a alternate universe where everything was the same except his mother never got remarried. 

"Me, too," Dirk sighs. "Me, too." 


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapters will alternate between Dave and Dirk from here on out.

_Disbelief (Noun): inability or refusal to accept that something is true or real.  
Example: Dirk was in complete disbelief that his boyfriend of 7 months wouldn't go with him. _

"I just think it's a bad idea, Dirk," said the boyfriend of seven months. They sat in his room, a movie playing on the small tv, their bodies lighting up blue in the dark. Dirk couldn't read Jake's expression, but he was sure Dirk could read his: utter disappointment and heartbreak. To Dirk, Jake's refuseal to run away with him was almost like a break up. "I don't think you should go, either," Jake continues. "They'll just call the cops and drag you right back, yeah?" 

Dirk didn't know why he asked Jake to go with him in the first place. Jake's family was fine, great even. His grandma made, like, the best food Dirk had ever tasted, and he was allowed to stay the night even though their status as a couple was out in the open. He just didn't want to be alone, really... The idea of going out on his own truly terrified him, but right now it was his only option. He needed to get out of there. Last night was the last straw. 

Sure, he'd considered other means of getting out. He thought of calling child service, but there was a chance they wouldn't believe him. Asking Jake if he could live with him seemed too much, too soon, and he didn't want to put them out, anyway. It'd be too much for them to feed him, too. Plus, Dirk figured Jake would bring that option up if it was okay and, well, he hadn't. Truth be told, Dirk had a feeling Jake was becoming a bit tired of him... 

"I need to leave, English." Jake just shakes his head, bites his lip, turns his attention back to the screen. And Dirk knows that this conversation is over. 

He can't pay attention to the movie now, not since he started thinking about it. Running away had been a dream of his for so long. Pages and pages of his notebook had plans, lists of what he would bring and where he would go and how he would make money to get by. Really, he had everything he needed to just... go. Get away from that bullshit at home. He'd just lacked the guts to do it. Until last night, when he brought the idea up to Dave. 

"Why don't we just go, then?" he'd said, standing up and turning to his brother. "We both want to, let's make it a reality!" Dirk started to get excited. A bubbly, little kid excited that he hadn't felt in years. Dave had stared at him, trying to figure out if he was serious or not. 

"Where? Where would we even possibly go?" 

"Anywhere. It doesn't even have to be that far." Dirk moved to the closet, rummaging around for a backpack. "Just as long as we get out of this house, out of this town, so they can't find us." 

Dave had looked like he was considering this option, eyes far away. He brought his knees up, rested his cheek on one. "But what about Mom?" 

What about Mom? Dirk could hardly believe Dave even asked such a ridiculous question. "Bro, screw Mom." Really. Their mother was almost as bad as that bastard they called their dad. She didn't hit them, or anything, but she manipulated the fuck out of Dave every chance she got. 

His brother was by his side now, taking Dirk's clothes off the hangers and holding them out to him. "You go." His voice dropped to a whisper. "I'll stay here, cover for you, whatever. But you should go." 

"What'll happen to you if I'm away, Dave? He'll start going after you, too." 

"He's never hit me before, why should he now?" The clothes had still been in Dave's hand when he said that, waiting for Dirk to take them and put them in the bag. 

Dirk took them. Which is what made it official. He was leaving. 

Drawers opened next, both of them pulling out Dirk's clothes and tossing them in the direction of the bag. "Don't take your cell phone," Dave told him. "It'll be pretty much pointless. Also, you might want to drop out of school. I imagine you won't be going back?" 

He hadn't even considered what he was going to do about school until that moment. "I guess you're right... But, dude, I'm not eighteen, and there's no way Mom's going to sign away her consent on my quitting school." 

Dave had an answer for everything, though. "Nah, but Vriska Serket can forge any signature. She's a signature forging queen, bro. Leave it to me, I'll take care of it." 

Take care of it, he did. By fifth hour of school the very next day, Dirk had a signed form, saying he was dropping out of high school. "I never thought it'd come to this," he admitted to Dave, staring down at the paper work. "I never thought this would actually happen." 

"You're sure you wanna go?" They had stood in the hallway, people rushing all around them to get to their next class before the late bell. They watched them, Dirk wondering if he'd ever see any of these people again. 

"I'm definitely sure." He didn't even have to think twice. 

Now, ending credits roll on the TV screen, and Jake gets up to lead Dirk out. He doesn't want to leave, not yet. Desperately, he kisses Jake, loving how warm Jake's mouth is on his. Oh, he loves this damn kid. Loves him so much it almost hurts. He wishes Jake would come with him, wishes they could have a life together. He pulls Jake back down onto the bed, on top of him, hands sneaking up Jake's shirt. 

This may be the last time he ever sees Jake. He wants to make to most of it. 

The kissing feels so good, Dirk gets lost in it. He feels as if they are melting together, becoming one person, one being, hearts beating in a synchorized fashion. Just as he thinks just how amazing that would be, if he and Jake were one, Jake pulls away, wipes his mouth on the back of his hand. Dirk reaches up to pull him back down, but Jake shakes his head. 

"It's late," he says. A tan hand brushes Dirk's fair hair off his forehead. 

"I love you," Dirk blurts. He needs to hear Jake say it once, just in case. Just once is all he needs. 

But the words never come. Instead, Jake pulls Dirk up, kisses his temple, and says, "I'll see you tomorrow." 

They won't see each other tomorrow. 

From Jake's, Dirk walks to the bus stop, backpack secure on his shoulders. It isn't a far walk, just five minutes, but the bus doesn't come for another half hour. He knows his destination, a city two hours from the one he currently lives in. As soon as he gets there, he'll try to find a job, something for him to have a stable in come of money. He's not sure where exactly he'll sleep, but that's a minor worry right now. He'll figure it out. 

Fifty dollars isn't much, but it's all Dirk has, and he's hoping it'll be enough for the time being. He figures if he just buys food off the dollar menu, and only eats once a day, he'll be fine. 

God, he cannot believe this is actually happening. 

\---

It is so late when the bus finally drops him off; half past midnight. Dirk is too pumped to be tired, though, and instead takes in his surroundings. Street lights illuminate the street (obviously, that's their job), and he sees three fast food joints on the same block. He considers going into one of them for some sustenace, but he decides he'll do that later, when the sun's up. 

Forty minutes is spent just walking around, trying to get a feel for the area, memorize some roads for later, so he won't get lost. Forty minutes spent walking, and it takes aproximately thirty nine to run into her. 

Her, being a girl in a pink jacket, hands in the pockets. Her, being a girl whose blonde hair is being whipped around by the wind. Dirk walks past her without a second glance, but she glances at him several times. "Hey," she calls. Dirk's steps slow, and she walks quickly over to him. 

"Hey," she says again. "Are you lost?" You can't be lost if you have no destination, Dirk decides, so he tells her no, he's not lost, but she doesn't look convinced. "Where are you going?" 

"Nowhere. Anywhere." Dirk shrugs. He doesn't even think that he's telling a complete stranger that he has nowhere to go. This weird look of understanding passes over her features, and she holds out her right hand to shake. 

"I'm Roxy," she introduces. Everything about Roxy looks warm. Her eyes, her smile. Her voice even sounds warm, welcoming. 

He takes her hand. "Dirk." 

She even laughs warmly. "I love it, that's a perfect name." She swings their joined hands, back and forth, up and down. Dirk thanks her, and tells her that he likes her name, as well. It's spunky, he says, which makes her laugh again. 

"Are you new to town?" They're walking again, and Dirk notices Roxy walks with a spring in her step, as if she's walking to a beat that can be heard only in her head. 

"Yeah," he admits. "Just arrived here, actually." 

Oddly enough, she doesn't ask why, doesn't ask if he's visting relatives or why he has nowhere to go. She just offers to show him around. And Dirk accepts the offer gratefully. 

\--- 

They talk so easily. Roxy tells him about her friends in town, tells him she's new, too, only just arrived last month, and Dirk tells her about Jake, and how he decided to stay behind. 

"Well," she says, "he's missing out on one hell of an adventure!" 

He finds out that she works as a waitress at some hole-in-the-wall diner. "It doesn't pay much, but it's enough." She promises to get him a job there, too, if he wants. 

Dirk tells her about Dave, and Roxy tells him about her sister, Rose, and that she misses her, but not enough to go back. He doesn't ask where "back" is, and she doesn't ask anymore about his family. He has a feeling she already knows enough. Dirk thinks he knows enough about her's, too, to know that she's the same as him. 

The subjet of where Dirk plans on staying comes up, and for that he has no answer. He's slightly embarrassed to not have figured that out yet, but Roxy says no worries. 

"You can stay with me and my friends!" She sounds excited by this, walking backwards so she can look Dirk in the eye. "We'd love to have you." 

"Are you sure? I don't want to be any trouble..." 

Roxy shakes her head, hair bouncing with it. "No trouble," she assures. "New people come and stay with us all the time." Before Dirk can even properly give her an answer, she's grabbing his hand and running, pulling him right along with her. 

\--- 

The first thing Dirk notices about the house is that it isn't too big. The second is that is smells strongly of marijuana. And third is that there are three individuals sitting on the hardwood floor of the living room, smoking said plant. 

"Guys!" Roxy shouts. "This is Dirk! He's going to stay with us for a bit." 

Three pairs of eyes are on him, two boys and a girl. The girl has long, dark, ratty hair. One boy has hair to his shoulders, then other has barely any hair at all, shaved almost bald. "Dirk," Roxy says, calling his attention back to her. "This is Meulin, Kurloz, and Cal." 

Dirk waves, and Meulin gets up, hugging him tightly around the shoulders. "Congratulations on getting out!" she squeals in his ear. Dirk flinches back, not expecting her voice to be that loud or shrill. 

"Getting out?" Dirk questions, holding his ear. How did this lady even know that? 

"Of your parents' house!" Meulin answers, and behind her, Kurloz nods. 

"Parents drag children down. They're toxic. We live free here." 

Beside him, Roxy is grinning this huge grin. Dirk looks at her, wondering just what to do, and she mouths 'it's okay'. So he figures it is. And then he's grinning, too. On just his first day away from home, he was lucky enough to find people like him, people who had gotten out, too, and understood that it was an accomplishment to leave. 

Meulin drags him down to the floor, and Roxy sits beside him. When they pass him the joint, he doesn't even think twice about it, takes a drag like he's been doing it for years. 

\--- 

The sun has started to come up, and Dirk and Roxy are laying side by side on Roxy's bed, the room slowly but surely becoming brighter. 

"What do you think? Of them?" Roxy asks, turning on her side and propping her head up. "Do you like them?" 

"Yeah," Dirk says, nodding. He is staring at the ceiling, making pictures out of the bumps. "I do. They're cool. Different." 

That makes Roxy happy. "Right!?" she exclaims. "Cal's a bit of a dick, but it's whatever. He's just so angry! Can you believe his parent's kicked him out? Poor kid's only fourteen." 

Dirk can believe that. The kid looked like he was in his early teens. "Man, that sucks. 

"Yeah," Roxy agrees. "They just threw him out, like he was trash." She's frowning, looking seriously upset. 

"What about the others?" Dirk asks, curious. 

Roxy's glad to tell him their stories. "Meulin and Kurloz are in love. Like, seriously in love. They're, like, twenty one, and have been on their own since they were our age! I mean, assuming you're the same age as me... Seventeen?" Dirk nods. "I knew it! I knew we were the same age. When's your birthday?" 

"December." 

"No. Way. Mine, too! Happy belated birthday!" She throws her arms around him, hugging him tight. "That's so crazy. You know, you and I could probably pass as siblings, we look so much alike." They don't really. The only similarities is the blonde hair, and even then, Roxy's is paler than his own, but he doesn't burst her bubble. 

"I'll tell everyone you're my sister, then." 

She's grinning again, her smile filling up her entire face. "What's your last name?" 

"Strider. Your's?" 

"Lalonde. From now on, we'll be...," she takes a second to think, before jumping up on the mattress and exclaiming, "Dirk and Roxy Strilonde!" She jumps up, pulls her feet in, and lands back down on the bed. "What do you think?" 

"It's perfect." And it is. Right now, everything is perfect. Roxy is perfect, this house and everyone in it is perfect. 

Everything is perfect, and nothing hurts. 


	3. Chapter 3

_Interrupt (Verb): stop the continuous progress of an activity or process.  
Example: A bump to his shoulder interrupts Dave's thoughts. _

"Heeeeeeeey, Strider." Of course, it is Serket, who is now leaning against the stop sign. Waiting for the school bus is never boring when it's with Vriska Serket. She always had something to say, something to complain about. Today, surely, was no different. 

"Serket." He does the allegedly cool 'sup' nod, stuffing his hands in the pockets of his jeans. "What's up?" Dave just asks her this to get the ball rolling, to get her talking like he knows she wants to. She always wants to talk. She could talk a man's ear off, it was a known fact. 

Sure enough, she heaves this huge sigh, like her world was just a chaotic mess. "Eridan Ampora, Dave. Eridan. Ampora." This is her starter sentence, what she says to make whoever she's chosen to converse with question 'what about Eridan Ampora?' Vriska wants people to show interest in what she has to say, to listen to what she deems important. The problem with that: she was never willing to listen to anyone else, turning whatever someone else said into a competition. Like, oh, your shoes gave you blisters? Well, MY shoes soles are falling off, and it's just dreadful, because I don't have to money to get new ones. Like that. 

It was annoying, sure, but everyone who knew Vriska didn't mind it. Not anymore, anyway. 

But maybe that was because everyone who knew Vriska decided it'd be better to just to talked at rather than do the talking. 

Deciding to humor her, Dave asks, "What about Eridan Ampora?" 

"He is _obsessed_ with me." Vriska puts her hands on her hips, shakes her head at the sky. "We hung out last week at Peixes' party for a bit, and now he won't stop calling me or texting me, asking when we're going to hang out again." 

"Man. Why'd you give him your number in the first place?" An important question. This will answer if Eridan is actually obsessed with her, or if she's just playing it like it is. Girls like Vriska think the world is obsessed with them, either with dating them or wanting to be them. It was their fatal flaw. 

"Well, we kissed a bit, right? I was curious if he was even good at kissing, you know? So I was like, 'Okay, harmless kissing never did anyone any bad.' And he wasn't awful, so when he asked for my number I just gave it to him without even thinking! How stupid of me, I know, but I didn't know he'd be texting me every five minutes!" As she finishes her speil, her phone goes off, and she dramatically throws her hands in the air, exclaiming, "I bet that's him now!" 

Way back in the seventh grade, Dave and Vriska were what one might call an item. They held hands as they walked from class to class, sat next to each other at lunch, called each other 'babe'. It lasted a total of six weeks. Truly, it was a magical six weeks. Not only did Dave get his first girlfriend, but he also got his first thirty kisses. Dating Vriska brought Dave some notoriety, as Vriska was one hot chick in the seventh grade (she looked even better now that her chest has filled out and she got some curves. Hot damn). She had blonde hair, blue eyes, and an attitude that Dave will probably always be a bit attracted to. 

The magical six weeks ended when Vriska decided she had it bad for some Mexican with the last name Nitram and broke up with Dave via Myspace. 

Which was worse than one might think, because Dave didn't have a computer at home, leaving him unable to check Myspace regularly like all of his other friends. He went to school the next day and kissed her on the cheek like he would any other day, except she made this huge scene. Something about how they were over and why can't he just get over her and stop making moves on her. It's really a blur to him, now. Long story short, he checked his Myspace in the computer lab that day and say her three word message: We're over, sorry. 

He still won't admit to crying about it. 

The bus arrives, the door opens, and Dave and Vriska make their way to the back, Vriska still yapping, moved on from the Eridan subject and now onto how she thinks Kanaya might be a lesbian. "I mean, if she is, she should just tell me! We're best friends, I won't even judge a teensy bit. Know what I mean?" 

"Honesty is the best policy," Dave recites, taking his seat and scooting in close to the window as possible. Since the one time Vantas had taken his spot, Dave made sure it would never happen again. For four days, Dave ran from the school and onto the bus as quick as possible. It is _his_ window seat.

For four days, he and Karkat still haven't uttered a word to each other. 

His bus stop was the one directly after Kanaya's, so Dave had about six minutes of a partner-less seat. When he got on the bus, Karkat would sit down, Vriska would make a comment about his sweater of the day (how many sweater could one kid own?), and Dave would mess around on his phone until they got to school. Karkat, though, would watch Dave scroll through Instagram or play Temple Run. He thought Dave didn't notice, but Dave definitely did. Dave would glance over at him, line of vision obscured by his shades, and sure enough, Karkat would be watching his phone screen. 

The seat shifts slightly as Karkat sits next to him now, always the gentle sitting. He throws his bag on the floor, leans back. 

Cue that Serket snark, "Green is really not your color, and fuzzy is really not your style." 

Watching from the corner of his eye, Dave sees Karkat turn towards Vriska. "You're right, you are so right, Vriska Serket." Karkat talks with a tone that is half onry, half exasperated. "Green doesn't suit me. _At all._ But obnoxious bitch suits you just fine." 

Dave gives the come back a five. Something like that, Vriska would bounce right back from. "Thaaaaaaaank you, Karkat." Dave can tell from her voice that she's smirking. "That may be the nicest thing anyone has _ever_ said to me. Thank you so much!" 

"You can take your thanks and shove it up your loose cunt," Karkat responses. This gets an "Oh, my" from Kanaya and an "Excuse me, you little creep?" from Vriska, but Karkat is facing forward in the seat again, not gracing Vriska with another word. Now, Dave is the one smirking. 

He tilts his phone so Karkat can see better. 

\--- 

"All I'm saying is that the world would be a hell of a better place if the school offered a choice in juices along with a choice of milk," Dave tells Jade and John, shoving fries in his mouth as he talks. "I mean, I get a mad hankering for apple juice sometimes, and the school makes me drink milk. Milk that churns in my stomach all day and leaves a nasty after taste." 

"There's always soda and flavored water," Jade suggests, gesturing to the drink machines along the wall of the cafeteria. "It's not like you're limited to milk." 

"Harley, Harley, Harley." Dave shakes his head, rolls his eyes at the ceiling. "Soda is seventy five cents. That is three entire quarters I do not have. Flavored water is a dollar twenty five. Do you see my problem?" 

Jade has a very serious expression on her face when she says, "I understand your problem, Dave." and nods. Dave thinks she's probably the cutest girl in the world. 

Next to him, John clears his throat. "I think that soda and water should go back down the fifty cents and a dollar. Why'd they raise them in the first place?" 

"Higher demand?" Jade says, resting her face in her hand. "I dunno. Why'd they change all the soda to diet? That is the question of the year." 

"Look," Dave says, getting them all back on track. "We're not talking about pricey diet soda, we're talking about shitty free milk. The chocolate is just as bad, if not worse, than the white. Answer me this, why does milk at school taste so bad, and milk you buy from the store taste pretty damn alright? Is it because of the setting? Or is it because it is expected of the milk to taste awful because it is accompanied by food that tastes awful?" 

Neither of his friends have an answer for that one. "The cookies they give us aren't that bad," John says. 

Dave is about to tell John that the last time they gave them cookies, they were hard as a rock, but Jade interrupts him, on a subject completely different. 

"Why does he sit alone?" 

Her eyes are, of course, on Dave's seat mate, who is, of course, sitting by himself. There's no tray in front of him, he's just sitting there and reading some book. "Why is he _reading_ at lunch?" John asks. "Lunch is the only time you're not required to read. Who reads at lunch?" 

"Kanaya Maryam reads at lunch," Jade answers, and the trio look at Kanaya's table, where Vriska is standing up and making dramatic gestures with her arms (story telling, Dave assumes), Feferi Peixes is hooked on every word, and Kanaya has her nose in a book. 

"At least she has friends to read next to, though." John stabs at his peas. 

Jade says nothing, and Dave stares at her, wondering just what she's thinking. He knows those do-good gears in her head are turning, he's just waiting for her next move. 

"I'm going to invite him to sit with us," she announces, and rises from her seat without another word. They both watch her as she sits opposite Karkat Vantas and begins talking. 

That's when Terezi sits down, a huge glob of ketchup on her tray. "Where's dog breath?" she asks. John points to Karkat's now-not-as-lonely table. "I didn't know she was friends with Karkat." 

"I didn't know you were on first name basis with Karkat Vantas," Dave replies. 

Terezi grins all over her face. "Saw him in the library a few days ago. He's hilarious! Kid gets so worked up so easily. Been talking to him since. We even say hi to each other in the hallways." She crosses her arms over her chest, like this is some huge accomplishment. Maybe to her, it is. Maybe to Jade it is, too. 

Jade returns, Karkat-less. "He said he'd rather sit alone." She's pouting as she sits down. 

"Oh well," Dave and John say, in sync with each other for once. 

"We should invite him to hang out with us Saturday," Terezi adds. "Then maybe he'll sit with us Monday after he sees how rad we are. 

"I think that's an excellent idea," Jade says. 

\--- 

Back on the bus, Dave has his ear phones in, head leaning against the cool glass of the window, eyes closed. His phone rests face down in his lap, next to his shades. By his side is Karkat, and since Dave's phone is not providing entertainment, he is reading again. Dave can't hear anything, thanks to his beloved ear buds, but he can feel Karkat shift every now and again, as if he's reminding him he's there. 

When Dave finally opens his eyes and looks over at Karkat, he is slumped down in the seat, knees resting on the seat in from of them for support. His neck is burrowed into his sweater, the collar of it covering his chin. 

With a smile, a shake of his head, and no words, he nudges Karkat with his elbow and holds out an earphone for him. 

Karkat takes it, and together they listen to music until Karkat's stop. 

\--- 

There are two sides to Dave Strider-- School Dave Strider, who is surrounded by friends and full of conversation, and Home Dave Strider, who is quiet and obedient. These two Daves do not mix at all, school version does not thinking about home version, and vise versa. 

Home is the only place he allows himself to miss Dirk. 

Four days without a word, and Dave prays his brother is okay. He'd like to think anywhere is better than here, as long as he wasn't at home he'd be okay, but he knows that's not completely true, knows there are evils in the world worse than the evils in these walls. 

Of course there was drama when Dirk left. His mom sobbed, wondering aloud why her baby could've possibly wanted to leave. His dad cursed and made threats and quizzed Dave, but Dave insisted he didn't know anything. 

It's been quiet since then, but Dave can feel this tension boiling below the surface, and he knows it will boil over soon. His mom has kept the house mostly neat, but both of his parents still got off their ass drunk everyday, now using the excuse of grief over their lost child. 

He's waiting for shit to hit the fan, for his mom to fuck something up or say something wrong. For his dad (step dad, he reminds himself) to snap and take his anger out on someone new. 

There is no denying it, no avoiding it, it is the only outcome. 

Dave sits in his room, thinks to himself, and waits. 


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Long time, no update! And I apologize for that. Inspiration died and then I started my adult life. But I'm back, and to apologize this chapter is pretty lengthy. I'm going to try and write up chapter 5 tomorrow too. I'm so sorry for disappearing for so long.

_Alive (adjective): 1. living, not dead. 2. alert and active, animated.  
Example: For the first time in a long time, Dirk Strider felt alive._

His new home-new friend combo everything to do with that, too. Even Jake hadn't managed to make him feel this happy, this safe. Even Dave couldn't get him too laugh this loudly, so often. 

OK, he was poor. So what? He'd always been poor. He made decent money waiting tables, where he would catch Roxy's eye across the room and they'd exchange quick smiles. He liked the job OK, he liked his thirty minute breaks better. Sitting on the stairs out back and listening to Roxy recount her adventures, sharing a cigarette with her (a habit he picked up- it wasn't as bad as the adults made it seem), feeling like he was part of something great. Roxy's life and energy seeped into him during those breaks, and he knew he could get through the remaining hours of his shift without problem. 

He liked the small home and the people who lived there. Kurloz and Meulin would play music in the late afternoon and dance, and Roxy would sing, and Dirk would watch and Caliborn would scowl and the house smelled like incense and marijuana and it was Dirk's favorite time of the day. 

"Dance with me," Roxy bribed him one night, pulling his hands and hoisting him off his spot on the floor. Dirk doesn't dance, or he doesn't anymore. The last time he can remember dancing was when he was six. He was in the car with his mom and Dave, gray rain clouds crowded the sky, and all Dirk wanted to do was go swimming. 

"Mom," he called to the front seat. "If we drive really really fast before the rain comes, can we go swimming? Please?" It was a hot, humid summer. They'd been trying to go swimming since school ended a few weeks previous. 

"I don't think we'll make it," she answered. "But if it rains, I'll pull over and we can dance in it." An idea that both Dirk and Dave weren't fond of. That wasn't anywhere near swimming. 

Of course the rain came. Their mother stayed true to her word and pulled the car over, opened the back seat and practically dragged the twins out into the rain. 

"There's no music!" Dave cried as their mother grabbed both of their hands. 

"Yes there is. The rain is our music." They'd danced for an hour. 

He missed the times before their mom got bad. 

And now Roxy's big, pink eyes stared at him expectantly, and Kurloz twirled Meulin around the room. The music played loud. "C'mon," his pseudo-sister persuaded, tugging his arm. "I'll lead." 

Dirk sighed, placed his hand on Roxy's shoulder, the other held in her's. "Okay, lead me." 

She giggled, and he smiled as she put her free hand on his waist. They waltzed to the Counting Crows while Cal watched and smoked and Kurloz and Meulin spun erratically and again everything was perfect. 

\--- 

The music slows. The roommates calm and sit in their circle. Kurloz passes a joint, and the talking commences. 

"I was sixteen and in love," Meulin starts. "Do you know that feeling?" Her big eyes land on each one of the party members. "Parents, they hate it when their babies fall in love. They think they're losing them when really their hearts are just growing and learning to accept more people into their hearts and they learn that affection goes further than just family. Parents get scared." 

"My mom was absolutely terrified, and when I got pregnant it got worse." 

Roxy gasps. "You had a baby?" 

Meulin shakes her head in response. "That's when everything gets worse, you know? Kurloz and I knew we were meant for each other. We knew it could only be us and mom wanted me to kill my baby, the baby that my love created." 

"What'd you do?" Dirk asks. Meulin takes a long drag from the joint, blowing the smoke out into the circle. Dirk watches it, watches the way it moves. It makes the story sadder. 

"I told my mom to fuck off. I packed some clothes and left and me and Kurloz made our own life." She pauses, passing the weed to Roxy. "Our baby didn't make it. In the end my mom still got what she wanted." 

An expected silence follows. Kurloz squeezes his girlfriends shoulder. Roxy sniffles, and when Dirk looks over at her, he sees tears staining her pale cheeks. 

Roxy speaks up next. "My mom is all about me and my sister making tip top grades. It's crazy. We would study for hours after school every day and go to group study on weekends. We never hung out with friends, ever." She tucks her hair behind her ear, pauses just so she can take a hit. "If we got lower than a B, she had these strict punishments where we weren't allowed out of our room. We'd have to eat dinner in there and everything." 

Dirk can't imagine it. A parent who cares about the grades he got in school. It's strange and foreign to him, but so is the idea of a parent being mad if he fell in love. His parents wouldn't care. 

"I was tired of not living. Of being stuck in a house with books being shoved down my throat. Of being constantly asked 'What's the pythagorean theorem, Roxanne?'" 

"Your names Roxanne?" Cal asks, snorting. 

"Yes, my name is Roxanne," Roxy snaps. "It's better than Caliborn!" 

Cal is laughing, holding his sides. "If you go by Roxanne, you're an old, frail woman. If you go by Roxy, you're a prostitute. You can't win." 

"I'm seventeen and never sold my body, thanks!" Roxy crosses her arms and puffs her cheeks, looking down at the floor. 

"What about you, Dirk?" Meulin asks. Dirk's gaze leaves Roxy and he focuses on Meulin. Her head is cocked to the side. 

"Me?" She nods. He thinks. "My mom... Uh. My mom is an alcoholic." 

So he tells them. About his mother and fake ass father. About Dave. It tumbles out of him and he can't stop. He tells them about running away and how he doesn't regret his decision one bit. He loves it here. He loves them. And by the end of it, he's shaking. 

And by the end of it, Kurloz, Meulin and Roxy all move to hug him, wrapping him in their arms. Meulin hugs hard, and Roxy's new, fresh tears dampen his shirt. He peaks through their bodies and sees Caliborn staring at him. It makes his stomach flutter. 

Whether that's the drugs or the green of Cal's eyes is anybody's guess. 

\--- 

When he wakes up in the morning, it isn't morning at all. In fact, it's four in the afternoon, and he's missed his work shift. 

"Fuck!" He jumps off the ground and starts trying to find his work clothes in the pile of his and Roxy's things on the floor. He's rushing and panicking and he feels sick. How could he let himself sleep so late, how could he do this? He's on the verge of tears. 

Finally, he finds his work clothes and goes to rush out the door, telling himself he'll get dressed when he gets to work, when a voice stops him. 

"Don't worry about it." The voice, of course, is Caliborn, sitting against the wall, a pad of paper in his hands. "Roxy misses work all the time. She'll get you out of trouble." 

"A...are you sure?" Dirk's never had a job before, so he's never been late, or skipped. He's worrying too much. 

"Positive. A fine bitch like that can get out of any trouble. If you know what I mean." 

Dirk doesn't know if he should defend Roxy or not. After all, Cal's known her longer. He lets out a long breath and sits on the ground, not next to Cal but not far from him either. An awkward silence follows. Since Dirk's lived with him, it's never just been him and Cal, one on one. 

"I have a twin, too." 

Dirk looks up at Cal, half shocked that he talked and half shocked that they have something in common. "Do you?" He doesn't know what else to say. 

"I hate her. I fucking hate her, she's so fucking perfect and everyone loooooves Calliope." He huffs. "I just...ugh. I'm just saying I get what it's like for parents to have a preferred twin." 

"Dave isn't preferred," Dirk counters. Dave goes through just as much shit as Dirk does, this Cal kid knows nothing. 

The Cal kid laughs. Not like what he said was humorous, like when he laughed about Roxy's name. It's a cruel laugh. Cold. "Then why didn't he get the shit beat out of him? He's favored. And it's not fucking fair. Is it?" 

It isn't. It isn't fucking fair at all, but that's not Dave's fault. Dirk tells Caliborn that. 

"OK. Whatever helps you sleep at night." 

"What does _that_ mean?" 

"Did he ever stand up for you? Did he ever say 'hey pop, hit me instead!' It's not his fault, but he never helped you." 

Dirk rolls his eyes. "Because he was scared." 

"Excuses!" He angrily scratches his scalp. "You and I, Dirk, we are the same. Our parents hate us and love our siblings. Like they are so much more deserving." Caliborn stands up, Dirk's eyes following him. This kid has so much pent up anger, he's practically buzzing. "Let's go on a walk." 

Dirk doesn't argue or disagree, just gets up and follows him out the door. 

\--- 

Caliborn tells him about Calliope. His words are hateful and full of hurt, his speech filled with words like "fuck" and "cunt", and Dirk just listens. He didn't know a fourteen year old could have such a vulgar mouth, and it makes him think of Caliborn as older than he actually is. 

"So Calliope died last year. Cancer. My mother. Birth giver. Was really sad. And hey, I wasn't, but I was at least going to try to comfort her. I mean, why not? But she blew up on me, screaming about how I never appreciated Callie, I never loved Callie like I should. She told me to get out. Like, bitch, one of your kids die and then you send me away? Fuck you." 

Dirk nods, his mind turning and thinking about his mom and Dave and how, woah, maybe his mom does prefer Dave. If Dave died, would his mom throw Dirk out? It doesn't seem too unlikely. 

They get back to the house, and like usual, music is playing loud. But the scene is different when they walk in. Instead of dancing, on the couch is Meulin and Roxy, Kurloz seated on the floor in front of them. Roxy's shirt is off, Meulin chest is exposed, the two of them wrapped around each other and kissing with Kurloz watches and touches their thighs. 

Dirk goes to say something, to clear his throat, but Cal stops him. "They do this sometimes." 

"Do they?" Really? 

"Yeah. It's disgusting." But Cal doesn't go into another room. He and Dirk sit in the opposite corner. They can here all the sounds they're making, and Dirk keeps glancing over, unable to help it. 

"Stop watching them, sicko," Cal says, grabbing Dirk's chin and making him look the other way. At Cal. 

"You sit in the same room as them and listen, and I'm sick." 

Cal shrugs. "There's always drugs after." 

They sit there, listening, looking at each other, and waiting. Cal is shifting, pulling at his pants, and Dirk feels a bit weird in his stomach again. He watches Cal's hands, tugging at his jeans, and put his own hands on top of Cal's to stop him. "You're making me nervous." 

"Well excuse me for making you nervous," he spits, but his voice is shaking, so it doesn't come out as mean as he intended. Dirk's fingers rub circles into the backs of Cal's hands. One hand travels up Cal's arm and to his neck. Cal shivers and Dirk's eyes focus on parted lips. He considers kissing him, and then thinks about how wrong it would be for him to kiss a boy three years younger than him. 

Except that Caliborn is leaning into him, and the noises from their housemates is making it hard to think about anything other than touching Cal. Cal leans forward some more, and Dirk pulls him the rest of the way, their lips meeting and moving together. Cal practically crawls into Dirk's lap, kissing him hard and biting his lip. His rougher than Jake ever way. Jake was gentle, kind, sweet. It drove Dirk crazy. 

This is new, and exciting and driving Dirk more crazy than Jake ever did. He finds himself thinking 'fuck Jake' as he and Cal get really into it, Cal all teeth and fingernails and Dirk gripping Cal's sides tighter. 

A "ahem" breaks them apart, breathless. Cal falls off of Dirk, his face red as Dave's eyes, staring up at Roxy, who is wearing a goofy smile and only a t-shirt. Dirk's eyes fall down her body and he wonders why she couldn't have slipped panties on, too. 

"I don't want to interrupt. But you can get back to what you were doing in a minute. We have a treat!" 

Cal looks at Dirk, as if to say "See? Drugs." Dirk nods and gets up, and helps his kissing companion up, as well. Roxy leads them to the couch and sits next to Meulin, who is perched on Kurloz's lap. Dirk is a bit reluctant about sitting, considering what was just going on, but Cal sits, so Dirk ends up following his lead. 

In Meulin's hand is a square of foil with powdery white on it. In her other hand is a lighter. 

"What's that?" Dirk asks. But he knows. Of course he knows. Everyone knows what heroin looks like. He just hopes he's wrong. 

"Fun. A way to feel alive," Kurloz answers. 

"You don't have to do it," Roxy reassures him. He feels relieved, only for a moment, because Roxy follows up with, "But you should try it. If only once." 

He watches as Meulin lights the lighter and holds it under the foil, watches as she and Kurloz breathe it. He watches Roxy do the same, and Caliborn. The give the foil to him. Waiting eyes. Goofy smiles. Caliborn's hand on his thigh. 

What other choice does he have but to follow suit? 

This is his family now. 


End file.
